


any way you do the math, the sum is three

by remnantof



Category: DCU, DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Alien Sex, Alien Technology, Bondage, Cock-Blocking, Double Penetration, Established Relationship, Frottage, M/M, Object Insertion, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other, Teasing, Tentacles, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-15
Updated: 2011-07-15
Packaged: 2017-10-21 09:59:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remnantof/pseuds/remnantof
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim/Jaime/Khaji Da straight up indulgent PWP with tentacles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	any way you do the math, the sum is three

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from tumblr by the author

Tim is groaning and panting against Jaime’s throat, and about the third time Tim’s breath catches and his eyes start to roll back in a way that is maybe disturbing or maybe just disturbingly _hot_ , Jaime feels the need to apologize.

This is, after all, kind of his fault.

And maybe the slick blue tentacles aren’t _his_ exactly, but they’re probably made out of his sweat and dead skin cells, which.

Oh.

That’s why people tell him not to say that, probably, because Khaji Da just tightened the tentacle around his dick and _tugged_ a little, and he shouts just as Tim tells him to _shut up_. Another tentacle comes out of seemingly _nowhere_ , except when Jaime focuses beyond how hot his boyfriend is and how incredibly evil his sentient alien technology is, he can feel them slithering out from under his back, slicking his skin and the sheets with he doesn’t even _know_ what, and Khaji Da is just sort of doing its hum-skip-hiccup-hum version of a laugh inside his head instead of sharing.

Even with all of them connecting between his shoulder blades, Jaime’s lost count of the things—two holding his wrists so he can’t actually touch Tim, one holding Tim’s wrists so he can’t touch _back_ , at least two more holding Tim’s hips out of the way, and Jaime’s legs are free but they’re sort of involuntarily spreading and pushing his feet uselessly against the sheets, because you don’t jerk off for a year with an alien bug fused to your spine without it picking up some of your tricks.

And he can’t really do the math either, because the new tentacle is shifting up between his legs and pushing into Tim, so two more multiplied to the power of the sound of Tim gritting his teeth and trying not to scream.

Then he’s biting Jaime instead and Jaime loves and hates the world because yeah, this is apparently his fault for claiming not to have any kinks, but it’s not like he knew his boyfriend has _way too many_ and also his sentient alien symbiote is way too aware of modern porn. Or, he hopes it is, and this isn’t just some sort of thing the scarabs are _supposed_ to do. Peacemaker never mentioned anything about protocol to _fuck your host’s boyfriend_. And your host. At the same time.

Jaime makes a sound that might be a word or might just be _hhhnnnfffffrrrgghh_ with a surprised hiccup for added drama, because he’s already close when Tim cuts him off with a hard, probing ( _so much probing_ ) kiss and starts trying to pull against Khaji Da’s grip to rub his cock on Jaime’s stomach or thigh or really whatever he can reach. He’s making pained little sounds against Jaime’s mouth, whimpers and moans and Jaime is kind of jealous of his scarab and kind of annoyed at the grip it has on his wrists, holding him back from _helping_ , but.

Oh, right. Feet.

They didn’t really seem to matter until now, and Jaime braces them as best he can on the wet sheets and pushes his hips up to meet Tim in the middle, and now they’re both whining and struggling to slide and arch against each other because the tentacle around Jaime’s cock coils around his balls and shaft and just _squeezes_ , and Tim is leaking precome and as desperate as Jaime’s ever seen him, thrusting hard at an angle that _just_ teases the head of Jaime’s cock.

This is going to be one of those times where Khaji Da kills him, he thinks. Kills him and brings him back a few minutes later so he can’t even enjoy an afterlife free of his evil, _evil_ —

“Oh god oh godohgod—” _wonderful_ horrible stupid perfect scarab that he hates, pulling out of Tim and sliding slick and hot against Jaime’s hole until he tenses so hard he thinks he pulled something in his leg but it’s really hard to care when he’s whiting out and coming this hard. This is going to be one of those times where Khaji Da kills him and it’s going to be _awesome_.

Except when he comes back, Khaji Da is still trying to kill him, squeezing his oversensitive cock and holding Tim’s hips up again, making him whimper and squirm, trying to push down to rub against something and back against the tentacle still moving in him. Jaime pulls ineffectually at the tentacles on his wrists and goes back to being fuck-stupid, rousing again to lick his lips and struggle a little harder when Khaji Da slides one tentacle under Tim’s chin to pull his head up, cradling his throat in a way that makes both of them shiver and sweat. Tim looks down at Jaime then away, flushed and exposed and that makes Jaime shiver too, thinking about how embarrassed Tim must be, because this is embarrassing enough but it’s _Tim_ , mouth opening helplessly with a moan and—oh god, oh _fuck_.

That’s Jaime’s _come_ on the tentacle Khaji Da forces into Tim’s mouth, solid and slick and a really inappropriately _pretty_ shade of blue, like pictures of the ocean in post cards from the tropics, clear cut glass but it feels like the smoothest skin, looks transparent but also _solid_. Solid enough to stretch Tim’s mouth, bruise his already kiss-red lips and slick them with come. Tim’s eyelashes are a black crush against his pink skin, and his nose flattens and flares a little with each breath he’s trying to take, and if the tentacle keeps pushing his cheek out like that Jaime is going to start gnawing one of his hands off just to have an arm free to throw around Tim and pull their hips together.

As it stands, the inability to help Tim out is unfortunate, but not _that_ unfortunate.

Khaji Da says something about the length of love and laughs again, one of the tentacles wiggling with what can only be mockery, and Jaime goes back to hating his scarab about the same time he remembers that he has legs, even if one of them definitely pulled a muscle and it really kind of hurts to roll his hips back and curve both legs around Tim’s back, dragging him down just as tears start to gather in the corners of his eyes. How much he’s aching is apparent in the way he’s trying to fuck Jaime back into the mattress and howling around the tentacle in his mouth.

It’s really hard to be mad at his scarab for fucking his boyfriend when his boyfriend is still coming all over his stomach and falling into a panting sticky pile on him afterward. Jaime wants to be mad on some kind of principle, but he’s starting to get hard again from the sensation of all those tentacles pulling back into his skin (his natural curiosity about science wants to know what they are but his stomach and his cock really _don’t_ ), and for pretty much the first time since Jaime met him, Tim is looking at him with something not even close to laser focus, and failing to put syllables together into words.

So Jaime doesn’t have to feel bad when he stares back and goes _um_.

Because Tim makes a noise that might be _yeah_ or might be _that was amazing_ or might be _never speak of this to any living soul or we are breaking up and I am getting a new identity_. Or probably not, because there’s more affection than threat in the sloppy come-sticky kisses Tim is smearing against Jaime’s collar. No kisses for you, he thinks at Khaji Da with a stupid sort of vindication, even if the way it grumbles makes him reassure it that Tim probably would if it really wanted them.

“My life is so stupid,” he sighs, flexing his hands to get the circulation back into his fingers before he pushes them into Tim’s hair: Tim ducks against the touch and catches his breath enough to push it silently back out in a laugh. He’s doing some kind of martial arts porn star stretch over Jaime’s body and rolling them a little, pulling Jaime onto his side, and he keeps laughing until it starts to actually make a sound. “ _Okay_ , it’s also _porn_ , but that doesn’t make it any less stupid! Porn is almost universally stupid.”

Tim makes a serious effort to stop laughing at him, until he sees that Jaime is serious, and then he can only bear it long enough to say _don’t let it hear you say that_ before he’s at it again, laughing more than Jaime has ever heard him do like, anything. Jaime is a little worried that his brain is broken—not that he wouldn’t understand _why_ , but. Tim’s brain is way more important than his.

Because he has Khaji Da to think for him, getting the joke and pushing out a tentacle just to make Jaime squirm and squawk a protest, because if his alien armor fucks Tim any stupider the Justice League is probably going to put him in jail and Batman will glare at him every day.

It doesn’t, though the tentacle doesn’t retreat either, pushing out slowly enough that he’s shuddering and burrowing into Tim when it starts to arch over them, sliding around Tim’s waist and burrowing under their bodies to press into the small of Jaime’s back. It’s not wet or sticky this time, just firm and smooth, skin-warm like another arm wrapped around them. Tim stretches until he’s comfortable and drags his mouth up Jaime’s forehead, presses it against his hairline and murmurs, “That’s for both of you.”

Khaji Da hums and tightens its grip; Tim slots their hips together and sighs. It’s kind of perfect, Jaime realizes, warmth pulsing from the scarab and filling him up inside. He’s never going to be alone, and maybe if they both hold on, Tim won’t be either.

Hard to be sorry for something like that.


End file.
